Running Away
by SolitaryPerfectionist
Summary: Ariadne was frustrated to her wits end with Atlantis. So what does she do? She kidnaps her friends and runs away!


Ariadne was exasperated. She knew so, and she meant not to hide it. _That_ was the cold reality of being stuck in that pitiful cell. Not her impending doom, as undesirable as it was to be cooked alive in a stupid metal bull. She had long since made peace with her gods, as she accepted her fate. Since then, her fear was a thing of the past, and everything seemed so very clear. She was annoyed. She was furious.

It was then that she understood that Therus was right. Atlantis was not the place for her, especially so with the threat of Pasiphae hanging quite literally over her head. No matter how bullish, or how crude his attempts were. Poor Therus, always having her best intentions at heart yet never succeeding in fulfilling them. Her thoughts of people who had her best intentions at heart brought yet another person to mind.

Jason. Noble, selfless, caring, daft, _Jason._ The man had seemingly had no sense of self preservation whatsoever. All that needed to be done was ask and he would willingly lay down his life, as he demonstrated multiple times. To make matters worse, she had heard every word of what he had said to her brother. And it never left her mind. As far as she knew, no one, not even his closest friends knew where he came from. It was like having a guardian angel. An awkward, clumsy, ungraceful guardian angel who spent the greater part of every week _in the dungeons._ But he was there nonetheless.

She had a choice. And she made it. If she escaped the _stupid_ bull, she would settle for elopement. Leave Atlantis in the dust, and pursue her _own_ happiness. Providing of course, Jason was willing. His willingness however, was indubitable. It felt bad to use him in such a way, but in her mind she knew that it was as safe for him in Atlantis as it was for herself. Which was to say, not in the slightest.

She laughed. The "Noble" kingdom of Atlantis, the kingdom that she had been forced to learn about since she was old enough to comprehend, was full of traitors, murderers, and cheats. Loyalties lay on a flip of a coin. No, she wanted no part of it. She had come to realize, she hated it. She hated her home, if she dared to call it that.

She was brought back to a colder, harsher reality when the cell doors opened. It was a small army that squeezed themselves through the too small opening. She snorted at the ludicrous sight. It was as if they expected her to be a powerful witch or a capable warrior, ready to spring out at any given moment and kill the guards. Sadly, she was neither. No, those titles left themselves to Pasiphae, regrettably, and of course, Jason.

Her cell door sprang open and she was hoisted to her feet. The men assigned to her, no doubt by Pasiphae herself, were a little less than common, ugly barbarians. Roughly, a group of blade swinging illiterates grabbed her shoulders and shoved her out of the cell, grunting unintelligibly. She gradually grew more irritated. Between the annoying clanking of swords, the obnoxious rattling of chains, and of course, _endless amounts of grunting_ , she was sure she'd go insane and start screaming before even nearing the stupid, bloody bull.

Her facial expression ranged from impassively bored, to furiously bored. There seemed to be little to no middle ground. Her feet lifelessly dragged behind her as she was dragged quite literally. She was shoved out of the doors, once more. It seemed every single one of the smelly, ugly, barbarians wanted a chance to "escort" her to her death. Not bloody likely.

"Get your filthy hands off me. At least allow _me_ the pleasure of _my_ dignity, as _I_ escort _myself_ to _my own_ death." she spat.

The masked guards were taken aback, if not upset. Reluctantly, they settled for holding her chains. Every single one of them, holding onto her chains. If it were possible, she would have gone blind from rolling her eyes.

At last, she spotted it. _Her._ The pinnacle of cruelty. The epitome smug petulance. The peak of pretentious satisfaction. Pasiphae stood watch, in barely contained glee as the drums began beating. _Lovely._ Now she had to endure obnoxious rattling of chains, unintelligent ape noises, clattering of sword, _and_ loudly beating drums. She barely registered the nonsensical sputtering of the "prisoners" overseer, not that it would do any less then add to here ire.

However, she _did_ notice a rather large man, seemingly drunk, clumsily spreading oil across the floor. Only to be thrown back by Ramos, therefore spilling even more oil. Suddenly, it snapped in her mind. She'd recognize the simply yet odd clothing of that drunken oaf anywhere. _Hercules._ And one thing was certain. Wherever Hercules is, Jason is probably right behind him. Along with the eccentric mathematical fanatic. Pythagoras, she believed his name to be.

She hurriedly glanced around her bleak surroundings. And there she spotted _him._ Jason. His face, from what she could make out, was full of worry, often crossing into anger. It glistened faintly in the moonlight. She watched him begin flexing a bow and arrow, taking careful practice aims at the target. Which was, the stupid metal container. What he intended to do, remained a mystery. Unfortunately.

Suddenly, she felt oddly optimistic about her _predicament._ Or at least, as optimistic as one could be, considering the fact that they were about to be slowly cooked to death inside of a _stupid bloody metal bull._ Inwardly, or at least she hoped, she groaned. Loudly. Judging by the incredulous to infuriated stares she was receiving, it was out loud. This only caused the scorned woman to groan even louder. With a final, loud, frustrated groan, she motioned for the overseer to continue, if not _speed up_ his idiotic ramblings.

She began to briefly consider the idea that _perhaps_ she was _already_ utterly stark raving insane. Her life. Her literal existence, hung on a proverbial thread, and she felt completely fine. Memories of the night she all but demanded him to stay in her chambers fluttered through her mind. Was Jason the reason she felt so tranquil? Probably. Sighing, she remember his promise. A promise to keep her safe. It was evident that he had some sort of plan, which was likely as insane as she thought she was going. Could it be Jason who was responsible for here recent mental instability? _Probably._

The soldiers began daftly yelling. The beat of drums grew louder, and more frequent. As did the thoughts of her latest desire to be completely, irrevocably _deaf_. She winced as the cacophony of jarring dishevelment grew increasingly louder, echoing off the stone walls. The guards began shoving her towards the stupid bloody inanimate bull. It was no where near as daunting as they had made it seem. Her lips pursed, and her eyes drooped with annoyance. She caught a glimpse of a small flash of light. It was a matter of seconds before panic and chaos _literally_ spread like fire.

The band of ugly barbarians drew their sword, rapidly moving in a disorderly fashion like headless chickens. Not to mention, the constant _shrieking_ of peasants. She, however, was on the receiving end of a massive, throbbing headache. Every sound seemed determined to rip her ears to shreds. Was this Jason's fault? _Definitely._ She had little to no doubt that whatever madness the man and his friends had stirred would eventually work itself out. That said, she swore vengeance on the said lunatic for the sake of her sanity.

Idly, she heard Ramos loudly demanding custody of the prisoner. It was not as if, she had a _name_ or anything of the sort. No, prisoner seemed to work just fine. She felt Ramos gently prod her along, telling her to trust her friends. She felt the need to inform him that she meant to do a great deal more than "trust" her friends, as Ramos was one of the few whose opinion still mattered. Vaguely, anyways. She held her tongue as Jason, seemingly appearing out of nowhere _as usual_ , threw a cloak over her head and lead her away.

She was very relieved to see him, even though she presently competed with a brick in the sense of sense emotional exhibition. While she had accepted her fate to mean death, she did not particularly welcome it. She was painfully aware of his near-fatal affections for her, feelings that she until recently fought to imprison. Their interlocked hands gave her a source of constant comfort. She also knew that as soon as whatever life-threatening situation they were in was over, his confidence would completely dissipate, and in his place the awkward, clumsy Jason would emerge. It was then established that if there were any hope of a relationship between the two, she would have to take charge or the poor boy might accidentally melt his brain with his own actions.

She threw her arms around his neck after they had entered an alley. Momentarily, the wild screaming of _practically everyone_ did not bother her. She smiled as he eagerly returned her embrace. If only he were capable of this when they _weren't_ being searched for and indubitably killed. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw two heads pop out. She released Jason as Hercules, Pythagoras and to her surprise, Ramos, made their way over to them.

She found herself being led into the tunnels of a sewer, enjoying the bold, yet humorous complaints of Hercules. She had often thought of how peasant humor differed from that of royalty. The answer, had become abundantly clear: unlike the royals, peasants were actually funny. As wretchedly horrible as the sewers were, it was a great deal more pleasant than enduring the overwhelming presence of several pompous, half-wits.

It was a wounded Ramos that brought her out of her musings.

"You're hurt!" Inwardly she winced. She berated herself as soon as her obvious declaration left her mouth.

"We _cannot_ afford to stop!" The aged general snarled back. He shook Jason's hands off him as he continued to charge through the mucky tunnels. The distant sounds of Atlantean soldier's boisterous splashing echoed off the stone walls.

"Is that _big enough_ for you?" Hercules remarked with smug satisfaction, after bending the iron bars open. She had to admit, such an act was rather impressive.

The group quickly scurried through the makeshift gate, and covered their tracks in the cover of night.

The rest of the night was rather anti-climatic in comparison to what could have been her execution. In the back of her mind, she had decided to ask Jason if he would leave Atlantis by her side.

 **So there's this thing that I wrote I** ** _super_** **long time ago, and it just sat in the back of my files collecting dust. Until today! I have to admit I lost sight for where I was going with this (you try leaving an idea alone for like half a year), but I will try to update when I get back in the fandom. Until then, please leave a review, tell me how I did, and note that constructive criticism is super helpful!**


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